


Aichmophobia

by Draycevixen



Series: Queered [2]
Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Angry Sex, Gags, M/M, Restraints, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Violence, dark humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-03
Updated: 2011-05-03
Packaged: 2017-10-18 22:17:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/193902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draycevixen/pseuds/Draycevixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The warnings are there because I know these things to be VERY triggering for some people, NOT because I really work to earn them.</p><p>Sam is anxious about the form Gene's response to the events of <i>Queered</i> might take.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aichmophobia

.

Gene had hit him, spat the word “Queer!” at him, and walked away.

Sam’s inner eight year old had demanded retribution and the world had tilted. He hated bullies. Fucking hated them. He’d always been the smallest kid in the group, the obvious target. He’d surprised them all by fighting back. He’d had the snot beaten out of him more times than he cared to remember, but he’d always fought back.

When his small stature had continued to work against him he’d found other ways to deal with the bullies. An apparent total lack of regard for personal safety, coupled with an insidious intelligence had served him well. Soon the other kids had labelled him a dangerous nutter and had left him alone.

*****

Sam had survived the weekend by his wits. He’d rented two hotel rooms that night, one a couple of doors down from the one he’d occupied with Gene. He’d known that the first place Gene would check for him was his flat. He could imagine the resulting newspaper story:

>   
> 
> 
> COP BEATEN TO DEATH WITH BLUNT INSTRUMENT!
> 
> Detective Inspector murdered in seedy flat, believed beaten to death with his own penis. Details are sketchy but it appears the unknown assailant had previously castrated DI Tyler with a particularly dull edged butter knife.

He’d left Gene strapped to that bed knowing that retribution would be swift and terrible. Sam had momentarily thought about transferring or just leaving Manchester and never coming back, but he wasn’t a coward.

*****

Monday morning, 8:25a.m., found Sam standing at the foot of the stairs to the station, thinking about walking in to face his certain death. _Even Chris should be able to solve my murder with my pulverized body covered in size 11 loafer prints_.

“You going to just stare at the architecture, Tyler? It’s late period shite brought to you by the twonks of local government.”

Gene spoke over Sam’s shoulder, leaning in. Sam tried to stay calm but he jumped so hard that he bumped into Gene.

“Need to stare gormlessly at it some more or are you going in to work?”

Gene stepped around him and looked back at Sam with his patented _doesn’t suffer fools gladly_ look on his face.

“Work, Tyler?”

Gene walked away up the steps.

 

 _So he’s going to kill me later. Must be too many witnesses here_. Sam followed him up into the station.

A few steps ahead, Gene was holding the door of the lift open for him.

 _Small space, large angry man._ “I’ll take the stairs, Guv, I need the exercise.”

“Suit yourself.” Gene let the door go.

 

Sam started walking up the stairs slowly, like he was headed for the guillotine, thinking the same thoughts that had been endlessly looping through his mind for days. He knew that Gene probably thought Sam had molested him when he was passed out from the booze but Sam had resisted the temptation. He’d tried to handle Gene as clinically as possible, just enough to get his clothes off. _So I did run my fingers through his hair, just a little bit, but I didn’t touch him otherwise._ Sam had stuck to the deal even before Gene knew what the deal was. He wouldn’t touch Gene unless Gene asked him to do so and he knew that Litton would develop a personality before _that_ would ever happen.

Once he’d got Gene stripped down and strapped to the bed he’d stayed awake, worried that Gene having drunk as much as he had might be sick and that would be dangerous as he was lying on his back. Sam had actually laughed to himself at the thought of how solicitous he was being. Unbeknownst to Gene, he’d even hovered in the hotel corridor afterward until he heard the desk clerk coming, unwilling to leave Gene unprotected and helpless.

*****

Despite having to remind himself to breathe several times, the morning had passed pretty smoothly.

Gene had gone to meet with Rathbone and it had crossed Sam’s mind to wonder if Gene was trying to get rid of him, but Gene had returned and shut himself away in his office without saying a word to Sam. Sam had flinched every time Gene moved and he moved a lot. So maybe he didn’t have Sam’s restless energy but Gene wouldn’t stay at his desk for long. He moved from desk to filing cabinet to couch and every time Sam jumped.

As the morning had progressed, Sam had worked on some case files with Chris and gone to the cafeteria to have some tea with Annie. Everything had seemed completely normal. Far too normal.

*****

Sam came back from the collator’s den, glancing at the top one of an arm full of files.

“Tyler!”

“Yes, Guv?” Sam was proud of how normal his voice managed to sound.

“In here, now!”

“Right.”

As Sam dropped the files on his desk he realized that CID was empty. _They must have all gone out on cases or are off in the canteen. Or Gene got rid of all of them on some pretext. Still too many potential witnesses around the station for him to kill me here, though a few death threats might be on the cards._

Sam walked over to Gene’s office, pushing open the door and lingering in the doorway.

“You bellowed?”

Gene looked up from the desk.

“Come in then, if you’re coming.”

Sam let the door close and walked slowly over to Gene’s desk. On the edge of Gene’s desk was an empty canteen plate decorated with a few bread crumbs and a butter knife. Sam laughed nervously.

“What’s wrong now, Tyler?”

“Nothing, just remembering something.”

“I’ve got something for you. Come a little closer, I don’t want anyone else to see.”

Sam leaned over the desk to see what Gene was going on about. Gene reached into his desk drawer and came out with two pairs of handcuffs.

“Now Guv I—”

 

Gene grabbed Sam’s wrists and pulled, collapsing Sam hard against the surface of the desk, his legs flailing as Gene clamped one end of a pair of handcuffs to one of Sam’s wrists, ran it through the middle desk drawer handle and clamped the other cuff to Sam’s other wrist.

 _Bugger! I’d forgotten just how fast he can move when properly motivated._ Sam tried to stay calm. “Whatever we need to sort out remember that any of the team could return at any moment and—”

“Then I best move fast.” Gene was up and reaching for his belt as he walked briskly around the desk, behind Sam.

Sam struggled to look back over his shoulder, twisting against his shoulders pulled forward by the handcuffs, only to see Gene was unzipping his flies.

“What are you doing?”

“Well if you can’t guess Tyler, then your education has been sadly lacking.”

Gene stepped between Sam’s legs and leaned into him, effectively pinning him to the desk. Sam could feel Gene’s erection against his arse even through three layers of cloth. Gene slid an arm under Sam’s waist to lift him up a couple of inches and slid his other hand under to pull at Sam’s belt buckle.

“You’re not actually going to do this?”

Gene freed Sam’s belt and made rapid work of Sam’s flies.

“Looks like it, Tyler.”

Gene slid his hands out and moved them to Sam’s arse.

“You can’t do this I’m not—”

“Not asking you. In fact, not listening.”

Gene stepped back around the desk, reached into his pocket for his handkerchief, folded it into a triangle shape and then rolled it up into a tight twist. When he went to shove it into Sam’s mouth Sam locked his lips. Gene held Sam’s nose until he gasped for breath and then shoved the handkerchief into Sam’s mouth. Gene knotted it securely behind Sam’s head. Gene strode back around the desk and roughly pulled Sam’s trousers and pants down around his ankles. As Sam watched him over his shoulder again, Gene pushed his own trousers and pants down around his knees revealing his jutting erection. Gene spat heavily into his hand and ran it over his cock.

“Not that spit’ll make much of a difference to you,” Gene’s tone verged on the conversational “but it’ll be enough to get me in.”

Sam turned his face to the desk and tried to brace for impact, the toes of his boots barely touching the ground. Sam felt Gene’s fingers digging in to his arse and flinched as he felt the head of Gene’s cock bump up against him.

 _He’s not really going to do this he’s just trying to frighten—_

Sam screamed around the handkerchief as Gene thrust halfway into him, feeling skin shred at the sudden invasion.

“You’re so fucking tight, Sammy boy.”

Gene thrust again, so hard that Sam’s feet rose off the floor, grinding Sam’s limp cock further into the desk causing him to scream even more at the double assault, almost inhaling part of the handkerchief in the process. As Gene’s hips accelerated, and Sam struggled to breathe, Gene’s right hand appeared in Sam’s line of vision holding the butter knife, moving it closer and closer to his throat.

“You’re my property. Don’t forget the knife.”

 

“ _What?_ ” Sam was still leaning on the desk. _Should have known. Gene would never be that calm._

Gene was sliding the handcuffs over to him.

“Christ, pay attention Tyler. I said I believe these are your property and don’t forget to have one of the plonks take this knife and plate back to the canteen.”

*****

Sam sat at his desk trying to look like he was working. He just couldn’t work it out. Gene didn’t seem to be at all bothered by the events at the hotel, and for some reason, that really bothered Sam.

He’d strapped Gene to that bed in order to teach him a lesson but he’d hoped, against all logic, that Gene might admit to a mutual attraction. Sam had known that it was pointless to hope, but hope wasn’t something that listened to reason and Gene _had_ kissed him back if only for a few moments. He’d originally hoped that his stripping would lead Gene into an admission of some kind, or perhaps cause Gene to want to take things further, but when that hadn’t happened Sam’s self-control had slipped and he’d masturbated in front of Gene out of sheer frustration. When Gene had finally asked Sam to touch him he’d felt a surge of triumph and yet been horribly depressed.

Apparently the only way he could get Gene to want him was to put him in a situation where he was so turned on he’d have accepted anyone’s touch, even Sam’s.

*****

CID was empty again, leaving only Sam sat behind a stack of files. He glanced at the clock, 6:00p.m.

He’d spent most of the afternoon hunched over behind those files trying to make himself look as small as possible. Now he stretched his arms as far over his head as he could, hearing his joints crack with the effort. He stood up and shrugged into his jacket.

 _Time to go home. Home. How bloody funny is that? Can’t go to the Arms, Gene’ll be there and being around a drunk Gene right now seems like a bad idea. Of course, the Test Card Girl is going to have her work cut out for her if she thinks she can scare me tonight. A pissed off Gene Hunt is much worse than anything she can come up with._

 

The doors of the lift were closing behind him when a camel hair coated arm shot between the doors forcing them back open. Sam backed up so fast that his head smacked against the wall.

“Guv, I thought you’d left already I—”

Sam’s words were cut off as Gene sank his fist wrist deep into Sam’s stomach, smacking Sam’s head yet again into the wall, causing him to start to slide down it.

“Oh no you fucking don’t” Gene snarled, catching him below his arms and dragging him back up the wall as Sam clutched at his stomach.

Gene hit him again, right in the face, flattening Sam’s nose and causing blood to spray across Gene’s face and coat.

“Bugger!” Gene wiped the blood from his face with his arm and then punched Sam in the stomach again, sending him crashing to the floor this time, before kicking him in the ribs repeatedly.

As Sam tried to see past his oozing nose, one of Gene’s blood stained loafers came into view.

“Look what you did now, Tyler. My shoes are ruined.”

Gene dragged Sam up into a sitting position against the side of the lift, where Sam huddled cradling his ribs and trying to breathe through his mouth, his throat full of blood and mucous.

“Now what can you do to make it up to me?”

Gene unzipped and shoved his erection into Sam’s gaping mouth. Sam couldn’t breathe. His mouth full of Gene, he could feel himself spiralling away, the Test Card Girl in the corner of the lift laughing at him as she made sure Bubbles got a ringside seat.

“ _I’m coming Tyler!_ ”

 

“I said, are you coming Tyler?”

“What?”

“I’m not holding this bleeding door all night.”

Sam blinked. _No Test Card Girl. No Bubbles. No blood._ He ran his hands across his face and down his chest. _No broken bones._

“If you’ve quite finished feeling yourself up.”

Sam glanced over to where Gene was holding the lift door open for him, seeing the station doors beyond.

“Right, Guv.”

 

As they walked out of the station and down the steps, Gene stopped and turned to Sam.

“Look, we’ve got a job on. One of my snitches called.” Gene ran one hand through his hair briefly. “Wasn’t sure if you’d want to work on—”

“Course I want to work. It’s what I’m here for.”

“Right then, Tyler. Get in the car.”

*****

“What we doing here?”

Gene had parked the Cortina outside of the last house in a series of run down looking row houses, close to the canal.

“Move it, Tyler.” Gene was already climbing out of the car. “We shouldn’t be seen if we can help it.”

Gene produced a key from his coat pocket and opened the front door, heading straight through the short hallway and up the stairs.

Sam closed the door behind him and followed. _Two up, two down. Just how many of these did I live in as a kid?_

Gene had disappeared through the open door at the head of the stairs, obviously the back bedroom. Sam thought he might have heard a groan from behind the closed door to his right, but couldn’t be sure.

“Guv, why’s there no light—”

“Shhh! Close the door behind you and lock it,” Gene whispered.

Sam could see Gene’s outline over by the window as he closed the curtains, shutting out what little light had been filtering into the room. Sam turned and fumbled at the door, finding a key in the lock and turning it, before edging forward.

“There’s a light switch to your left, Tyler.”

Sam flipped it on and retreated fast, backing up against the nearest wall. The room was a masochist’s wet dream. The bed in the corner had restraints attached and there were rings set into the walls at various levels. In the corner, there was a leather harness dangling from the ceiling. Along one wall was a chair frame with restraints, bolted to the floor, and a tool rack holding whips and paddles of various sizes as well as a few items Sam didn’t even recognize.

 _Nice craftsmanship on that rack… Shock, must be shock._ “What is this place, Guv?

“Obviously, it’s a chip shop.” Gene rolled his eyes. “Christ, Tyler, how old are you?”

Gene pulled his coat tighter around him and sat down gingerly on the very end of the bed, the only place in the room to sit down that actually had a bottom to it.

 _I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t sit down on the end of that bed without coating it in disinfectant spray. Did they have disinfectant spray… focus, Sam, focus!_ “How did you find this place, Guv?”

“It belongs to a friend of Ray’s.”

“A _friend_?”

“She’s a dominatrix, said we could use it.”

“For what exactly?”

“Let’s just wait until Annie gets here.”

“ _Annie_?”

“She’s going to give us a helping hand.”

“You dragged _Annie_ into this?”

“She volunteered.”

“She _what_?”

“Double bubble.”

“You’re going to _pay_ her?”

“Can’t very well not pay the plonk now, can I?”

Sam finally stepped away from the wall, lurching forward a couple of steps.

“You can’t Guv, you just can’t. Leave Annie out of this, I know your mad with me but—”

“What are you flapping on about now, Gladys?”

“I know I shouldn’t have taken you to that hotel but—”

Sam’s words died as Gene starting laughing so hard he almost fell off the end of the bed.

Sam’s hands balled into fists. “Are you going to tell me what’s so bloody funny?”

“We’re here on a stake out, you twat. There’s a warehouse behind this house where I’m told they’ve been up to no good."

"Up to what exactly?"

"Don't know yet, some lad from London, but I'm going to. Right good view from this window. Annie’s going to split the shift with you.”

“Right then.” Sam sagged back against the wall again.

“You really thought—”

Sam gestured at the room. “What was I supposed to think?”

“Unlike _some_ I could name, Tyler, I’m not in the habit of kidnapping people.”

“I thought you’d be mad.” _Why aren’t you mad, didn’t it mean anything? Christ I’d give Freud nightmares!_

“I was mad to begin with. But I had time to think about it. Truth is Tyler, I asked and you said no. Enough said.”

“I didn’t say no—”

“Well you left, same thing. Don’t go where I’m not wanted.” Gene stood up. “You were angry. I shouldn’t have hit you, you were pissed as a newt else you wouldn’t have kissed me in the first place. Only you could make your point in such a bloody strange way though. You wanted to teach me a lesson and you did.” Gene crossed the room and stopped in front of Sam. “I learned a few things.” He skimmed one gloved finger down Sam’s cheek, ghosting across his lips. “If only you _were_ queer, Sam,” Gene murmured as he stepped past Sam and turned the key.

The door closed quietly behind him.

 

.


End file.
